


Blackbourne

by TrueMorrigan



Series: The House of Black Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Altair Black Deserves the Father of the Year Award, Daphne Greengrass is Fed Up, Dark Magic, F/F, F/M, Good Slytherins, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Magic-sensitive instead of Force-sensitive, Magical Artifacts, Morally Ambiguous Character, OC Just Wants To Hug A Plant, Old Magic, Protective Slytherins, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Sirius Black Lives, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Slytherins Deserve Happy Endings Too, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Theo Nott is Most Precious Boy, Three Branches of House Peverell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueMorrigan/pseuds/TrueMorrigan
Summary: Double, double, toil and trouble...In which the Most Noble and Ancient  House rises from the rubble,And a young witch with a name as dark as her demons,Meets someone as bright as the stars.{Book I of the House of Black Chronicles, follows a darker version of the Harry Potter Franchise- No Weasleys were harmed in the making of this fanfiction}
Series: The House of Black Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840024
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. PREFACE

**_I wasn’t sure when we first met._ **

**_This was an ominous notion that often frightened me in the late hours of the night when all manner of terrible thought tended to strike. I wasn’t sure when we first met, and I did not know how long you had watched me for; if it were for all my life, or just the short, scattered moments you allowed me to be privy to your existence. I did not know when we had first met, and I did not know if you had always been there…_ **

**_A part of my soul long before I knew to keep you out._ **

_**-S.C.B. on Darkness.** _


	2. The Scarlet Express

I often had nightmares. 

I'd had them as long as I could remember, the dreams often leaking out into my reality. Like most children, I had an overactive imagination, and for as long as I could remember I'd try to convince myself that was all it ever was- my imagination. That the monsters that lurked beneath my bed were nothing more than a bad dream. I should have noticed that my dreams weren't like a normal young witch's nightmares. I wasn't chased by a sinister Lethifold. No Quintapeds haunted me, nor werewolves nor vampires nor hags. My nightmares were the kind that had you shooting out of bed like a body from a grave, dripping with cold sweat, a chill running down your spine and every hair on your body standing straight up all at once. The kind that left you with temporary amnesia as the cold grip of fear held onto you tight, looking around your bedroom wildly and not recognising your own surroundings, eyes searching for what you'd just seen stalking you in the night. In that moment, you're not in control of your own body, you don't even remember your own name. All you feel is cold hard fear gripping at your bones, more powerful than anything else you'd ever felt in your entire life. 

It was one of the recurring ones that had me losing sleep that week. People often had dreams of their loved ones dying, sure, but I doubted anyone saw their own mother get hacked in the head with an axe while trying to tell you something. The axe seemed to fly out of nowhere in the swirling mist that had surrounded us both, the blood dripping down her shocked face in her death had been so vivid, the sound of the axe schlinking into her skull echoing in my ears. This might have been more than disturbing enough for most people, but I wasn't most people. 

I was more perturbed by the fact I'd never even met my mother. 

I groaned, rubbing my face in vain as I attempted to rid the image from the forefront of my mind. I'd looked forward to this moment my entire life- and now here I was, more exhausted than I had ever felt in my entire life, sitting alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express as the train chugged out of the London City Limits. I didn't want to think about the dream- which meant I couldn't _stop_ thinking about the dream. 

"Meow." I was grateful for the kitten my father had given me, smiling at the needy little thing as it kept climbing all over me, her juvenile claws digging into the velvet of my waistcoat. Altair Black was a force to be reckoned with, a shining example of what a father should be in a world where Pureblood fathers often regarded their children to be accessories to be seen and not heard. He was usually busy with his two jobs at the Ministry- one as the Head Curator of the Department of Magical Artefacts, and the other as a member of the Wizengamot- but he tried and that was what mattered. Every day he came home he made sure I knew I was loved, a stark contrast to the cold upbringing he had experienced as a child. Father didn't want me to end up like his brothers, one who died too young...and one who would surely wish he was dead serving his sentence in Azkaban. 

_"Here." My father had dumped the scrawny black kitten rather unceremoniously into my arms on the busy Platform, making me frown at him. His clear blue eyes glistened with what I suspected to be tears, making me squint up at him suspiciously. He only stretched his lips into the crooked grin I always knew meant he was up to something. "He'll keep you safe.”_

_"Papa I'm not off to war, you'll see me for Christmas." I roll my eyes at his antics, but he only chuckles, dropping down onto one knee fluidly, straightening out my coat._

_"Don't lose him." Father insisted instead, raising an eyebrow at me to make sure I was listening. Mustering an equally faux stern expression while fighting my own grin, I nod at him. "Good. I'll send you treats for him in the mail- his name is Tolstoy.”_

_"I think Tolstoy's a girl, Papa."_

I didn't like public spaces. The train was just as much a challenge as my Father had warned me it would be, and I was grateful for his parting gift. Tolstoy was a brilliant distraction, there was so much magic in the singular space that I felt it entirely possible to implode. A bitter part of me raged against the meticulous control my Father had taught me my entire life, _what's the use of holding back? None of these people care about you, you're a Black._

“Hello!"

The voice had startled me, snapping my gaze up to find a short young brunette witch who already wore her unmarked school robes barging into my compartment. Distracted by the sudden appearance of the newcomer, I couldn't help the way my attention immediately shot to her most distinct feature- the wild, thick, bushy mane of frizzy golden brown hair that shrouded around her small face. Her eyes were a deep doe-like brown, sharply intelligent and positively easy to read, the curiosity plain in her expression as she all but buzzed with it. 

"My name's Hermione Granger, I'm so sorry- this might come off as terribly rude, but are you by any chance a Veela?" The girl shot at me so quickly I only managed to blink before she rushed on, cheeks turning an adorable shade of ruddy pink. "I know I shouldn't ask that, and I don't mean to offend you, it's just that, well, I've read all about them you see, and if you are one- which I'm absolutely sure of from what I've read about- then you're the first magical creature I've come across aside from the Gringotts Goblins, and they're not particularly friendly to interact with, but Veela are far more fascinating anyway, did you know that Veela can-“

"Granger." I cut her off, frowning at her. “ _Breathe._ "

She clamps her mouth shut, only moving to blush even more furiously. Finding myself curiously equal parts vexed and amused, I gestured with the hand that still held my book for her to take the empty seat before me. She obliges in a slight rush, no doubt eager to get her answers. I smile softly at her mannerisms, certain by now that she was a muggleborn by the very fact that she seemingly had no idea who I was. 

"First of all, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." I nod my head at her. "My name is Selene Black.”

Her eyes widened at once, her mouth opening no doubt to attack me with another barrage of words about what she'd read about, but I cut her to the chase. "And I'm afraid that the answer to your question is no, I am not a Veela and thus not a magical creature, although I am quite flattered. The next time you wish to identify a Veela, or even a part-Veela, I would recommend starting off with blonde hair.”

"But the thrall." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. It took me a moment to understand what she was referring to, flushing furiously. 

"It's just my magic." I answer a little quieter, sheepish as I tried to reign it in, not realising others could feel the buzzing aura of my magical signature while I was busy distracted by my nightmare. I smile encouragingly at her as she looked even more embarrassed. "I can feel yours too, don't worry. You've got quite the strong magical core.”

"Really?" She lit up, before looking adorably awestruck. "You're heir to House Black. That's the oldest pureblooded magical family in Europe, I've read all about it. There's been more Hogwarts headmasters from the Black Family than any other Wizarding house.”

"I'm not certain if I'm meant to respond with a thank you or not." I tell her wryly with a little smirk, making her blush furiously. "You're a muggleborn, aren't you?”

She frowned at the term, clearly disliking it, but she nodded. I felt my smile turn sad for her. "A word of advice, Granger? Try to avoid purebloods- _especially_ the ones in Slytherin.”

She opens her mouth to question my warning, but we're interrupted by my two best friends, who had found me at last. "Selene there you are, where the devil have you been? Daphne and I've been down the whole length of the train looking for you.”

"Clearly you started off at the wrong end then." I teased Theo cheekily while Daphne gasped. 

"Who's this little darling? Hello." She cooed as she picked up Tolstoy from my lap, the kitten scrambling about in distress as Daphne sat down at my side. 

“Tolstoy.”

"Who's this? Hello." Theo smiled kindly at Hermione, drawing the compartment door shut behind him as he sat down opposite Daphne, next to Hermione. "I'm Theodore Nott, I don't believe we've met before. This is Daphne Greengrass.”

"Hey." Daphne answered distractedly, not even looking up from where she was scratching Tolstoy's belly. 

"This is Hermione Granger." I rescue Hermione, who looks flustered at the sight of my friends, her eyes turning to mine as I nod at her encouragingly with a little smile. 

"Granger, aye? Don't think I've heard of a Granger before. Are you a halfblood or foreign, Granger?" Theo asked casually. 

"Oh! Um." Hermione frowned, opening her mouth to correct him when the compartment door slid open once more, Neville Longbottom speaking long before he seemed to actually look into it. 

"Has anyone seen a toad? I've lost mine, his name's Trevor and..." The words died on the chubby boy's tongue as he turned from the corridor into our compartment, seeing who was in it. He pales at once, as white as a sheet, lips blue and shaking. "S-sorry! Sorry! I d-didn't mean to-“

"Oh grow a pair, Longbottom. We're not going to hex you for speaking to us." Daphne huffed, rolling her pretty blue eyes at the boy. It didn't do any good, only serving to make him whimper as he backed away from the open compartment door. 

"No, we haven't seen your toad Neville." Theo supplied kindly. 

"Why did you get a bloody toad, you twit? Don't tell me you intend to join the school choir?" Daphne continued, never exactly one for the warm and fuzzies. I frowned. 

"M-m-m-muh..." The fat boy didn't really manage to make any coherency after that, still staring widely in fear at us all. 

"It's alright, Neville, was it? I'll help you find your toad. My name's Hermione Granger, I'm a first year too. Come on." Granger got up and out of the compartment to rescue the poor boy, shooting me a look as if to say 'you're welcome'. I roll my eyes as she leaves, shutting the compartment door behind her before she helps a still terrified Longbottom down and out of our view. 

"Who was she?" Daphne asks the moment the strange girl is gone, seeming to have noticed my little smile as I reached into her satchel for the packet of fizzing whizbees she always carried with her. 

"Muggleborn." I answer shortly, tossing one of the pink sherbert balls with expert ease straight into Theo's waiting mouth as he jumps a little to the left to catch it. I pop one into my own mouth, the two of us starting to levitate up into the air with matching grins as Daphne frowns. 

"Selene...if anyone else saw-“

"Screw them." Theo cut her off. "You can't honestly expect us to steer clear of all of them while we're at Hogwarts, Daph, I bet we're going to have class with loads of them.”

" _Never_ call me Daph again, git." Daphne glared at him. 

“Why? Selene calls you Daph all the time.” Theo fired back.

"Enough you two." I groan, knowing they were about to start fighting again, feeling the headache come on as I floated back down to my seat. 

"Are you alright?" Daphne frowned at once, reaching up with the arm not around Tolstoy to check whether my forehead was warm or not. "Selene, you look exhausted. Did you sleep at all last night?”

"The dreams again?" Theo asked me knowingly. I clenched my jaw, nodding. "Did you tell your Father about it?”

"No, he'll start me off on dreamless sleep potions again." I sulked. "It's the only way I get to see her.”

"Sweetheart, that's not something anyone should want to see." Daphne tried gently. "Promise you'll drink some of the potion tonight?”

I squint suspiciously at her. "Will you slip it into my goblet if I don’t?"

"Most likely.”

"Fine."


	3. The Snake Pit

I wasn't particularly surprised to be sorted into Slytherin House. Nearly every member of my family had been a Slytherin, save for one. I'd only been relieved when Daphne and Theo got sorted into Slytherin shortly after. Daphne had been a certainty, I couldn't picture her anywhere else and if she'd ended up in Hufflepuff she might have murdered everyone in their sleep. Theo was more of a gamble, my best friend tended to have a bit of a hero complex streak in him that his father tried to beat out of him. I treasured Theo's pure heart, even if it got him into more trouble than he needed. 

Late in the night, Daphne lays in the crook of my arm on my bed as we stared up at the green velvet canopy while listening to the thundering rain outside as the fireplace between our beds crackled. The other girls were still getting ready for bed, having wasted far too long in the common room gossiping about the first night while Daphne and I had tiredly marched straight for our dormitory for a shower. "That girl on the train today?”

"The muggleborn?" Daphne asked with a frown as I nodded. 

"Hardly a hello before she asked if I was a Veela.”

"Muggleborns." Daphne snorted with a roll of her pretty eyes. "Don't let that get to your head, it's big enough as it is, Black.”

"Bite me, Greengrass." I respond just as quickly, the two of us grinning up at the canopy instead of at each other. 

"I don't know what my parents were on about, I don't think I could ever get used to living in a castle. Though I do wish we had a better view, the Black Lake from below's a bit grim." 

"Oh, Black's used to it, aren't you?" A sneering voice made both of us perk our heads up, sharing a look as Pansy Parkinson came back into the room, her minions behind her. "Careful, Greengrass, she might snap and Avada you in her sleep.”

The girls flanking Parkinson glanced at her as if she'd grown three heads, but they didn't exactly speak up or stop her. I turned to Daphne, raising an eyebrow at her as she shrugged. "What? Got nothing to say, do you? I thought not, mother always did warn me about you Blacks, says you're not nearly all that! Just a bunch of criminals and crackheads.”

"Excuse me?!" Daphne growled as she surged forward with a vengeance, my arm only barely shooting out in time, tugging her back like a leash before she could descend upon the catty girls. I knew the look in Daphne's eyes all too well, she was seeing red- and when Daphne Greengrass saw red you were going to end up at St Mungo's. "You have no idea who you're messing with, you gormless muppet!”

"Oh yeah? Neither do you, Greengrass, or else you'd be smart enough to steer clear. There's more Blacks in Azkaban than there are alive. The hat made a mistake, she doesn't belong here! She shouldn't even be allowed into a school! Mark my words, you hang out with the likes of her, you'll be dead by the end of the week!" The pug-faced girl was red in the face now. Daphne growled, but I shot her a look, sighing as I got up off my bed, dusting off my pyjama trousers as I stood upright, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders as I padded barefoot over to the girl, not stopping until I was right in her face. I could tell that the small smile playing on my lips and my calm demeanour did it's job- she looked petrified, while her two harpies backed away with wide eyes. 

"The Sorting Hat does not make mistakes. If you had even a wisp of functionality in that dense brain of yours, you dull creature, you'd know that. Now, I'm going to say this only once, so make sure to gather your two functional brain cells and listen carefully." I spoke with a frighteningly calm tone to my every word, poor Parkinson forced to stare upward to meet my gaze. 

I heard multiple breaths hitch at once, a lazy grin stretching onto my lips as I let go of my perfect control for a moment, letting my magic fill the room, thick and viscous, to the point that all of the girls within it except for me were breathing a little harder. I could see the pure terror flood Parkinson's veins, the dangerous side of me taking some sick twisted pleasure out of the reaction.

"So much as _dare_ to step even a foot in our direction again, and your body will _never_ be found. Are. We. Clear?" I ask her with a languid stretch to every word, enunciating crisply. 

Parkinson's response was a mewl of some sort, I wasn't certain, but I still hadn't blinked, staring deep into her tear filled brown eyes, face hovering inches over the girl- enough that I was certain Parkinson could feel my every cool breath. My lips stretched into a dark grin, leaning back and straightening my shoulders with another roll as the tangible magic filling the room snapped harshly back into my person."Good. I wouldn't recommend a repeat of whatever pathetic display of theatre that was, I would hate for you to be the reason Slytherin loses any house points. Morgana knows how I'd react to that, I'm not quite sane when angered. Isn't that right, Daphne?”

"No." My best friend grinned wickedly at me, eyes lit up from my actions defending her. "Selene's quite skilled in hexes. Her father's got an Order of Merlin for his duelling skills, did you know?”

"Mmmm, I'm quite partial to the Horn-growing Hex. Takes weeks to get rid of even with the most skilled of mediwitches. However would you hide it with that limp hair of yours?" I threaten equally casually as I return to Daphne's side. 

Looking horrified, Parkinson jets to the bathroom, Davies and Bulstrode rushing after her. The minute the wooden door slammed shut behind them, Daphne and I burst into laughter. 

"That was magnificent." Daphne whispered after everyone had settled into their beds for the night in tensed silence some time later. I turned to my side, smiling at her softly, apologetic. "Terrifying, don't get me wrong, but I love it when you get like that. It's magnificent.”

"Sorry. I've been trying to work on it, Father says temper runs in the family." I frowned. "I wish you hadn't had to witness that.”

"Please, I'm still shocked she had the gall to do something like that." Daphne snorted. 

"Fairly predictable, actually." I admit to her, earning a raised eyebrow. "Well, we're in Slytherin, aren't we? Everyone's going to be playing politics in here to try to scramble to the top. Parkinson's just foolish enough to try to bully her way there. I'd like to see her try that on someone like a Carrow, she'd probably end up in St Mungo's by the end of the month.”

Daphne frowned. "We're in for a ride, aren't we?"


	4. The Master of Melodrama

The staring wouldn't stop. 

I'd woken up just as tired and drained as I always did, begrudgingly dragged out of bed by Daphne who was in an equally foul mood, by some miracle already dressed. We'd stayed up later than we should have talking, but even if we hadn't I was certain I would've been just as exhausted. Oddly, I couldn't remember my dreams like I usually did- I wasn't sure if that had left me even more drained or not, begrudgingly promising to take a dreamless sleep potion tonight after Daphne chastised me thoroughly for manipulating her out of it last night. 

  
The exhaustion had disappeared with a harsh snap the moment we entered the Great Hall. As a magic-sensitive individual, it hadn't been particularly wise of me to step into the crowded space without my barriers up. Scrambling to do so left my nerves more frayed than usual, clamping a mask of indifference upon my face as I allowed Daphne to lead me to the Slytherin table where Theo was waiting for us both. 

I couldn't focus on anything apart from the staring. 

I never met their gazes. I kept my eyes firmly glued to the bacon, fried eggs and baked beans I was neatly cutting up with my cutlery. Routines helped me focus, it was like meditation. The mind-numbing repetition of cutting the exact same size and exact same portion of each food group before eating and chewing the exact same amount of times helped me focus. It helped me block out all the magic threatening to suffocate my own. 

"You'd think none of them had ever come across a Witch before." Daphne glared icily at a third year Gryffindor sitting behind her, who had been rather obviously turned around just to stare openly at me. 

"They've never come across a Black before." I give her a look. 

"Bollocks to that." Theo huffed. "Why does everyone think you're some type of evil overlord to be? It's ludicrous! I mean honestly! What do they think you're gonna do, blow up the Great Hall?!" 

"Shhh! Shhh, Theo, hush!" I rushed to shush my best friend, arms stretching out after dropping my cutlery with a loud clatter onto the table. 

"Don't give them ideas, you nitwit!" Daphne hissed from next to him. Theo spluttered, the vein his forehead throbbing rather spectacularly. My eyebrows furrowed together, biting my bottom lip as I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to calm down. "Morgana save my soul, what did you go and do that for?”

"Got them to stop staring, didn't I?" Theo grinned toothily, and I frowned, looking around to find everyone indeed sheepishly returning back to their own conversations. _Trust Theo to make a scene just to manipulate people into doing what he wants them to._

"I think the rumours could be quite useful, actually." Daphne debated with a frown as she straightened herself out. Theo and I both look at her curiously. "If they think you're the next big Dark Witch then that's an easy sail straight to the top of the Slytherin Pecking Order. No one would dare mess with us, and we could get away with anything." 

"I think you forget that our dear little Selene's not nearly as scary as people think she is." Theo teased me jovially. I glared at him, my eyes squinting into slits. 

"I can be quite terrifying if I care to be, Nott.”

"You spent three hours crying over a bowtruckle in the Greengrass Greenhouses." 

"It was a _baby_ bowtruckle. How can anything be positively more adorable than a _baby_ bowtruckle?" I felt my cheeks flame a furious red. "And it wasn't three hours! It was maybe half an hour at most!”

"Oh no, it was definitely about three hours. We couldn't calm you down until you had a hot chocolate." Daphne grinned, making me flush even more, pouting at her. "Awww, look at it, Theo. It's much cuter than a baby bowtruckle.”

"I'm not an it, Greengrass.”

"It's the most adorable thing whenever it gets flustered." Theo backed up Daphne. 

"I'll hex you both in your sleep, don't think I won't. Just because we grew up together means nothing to me." I glare at them, but it's not very effective because all three of us burst into laughter. And just like that, everything I had been stressing over seemed absolutely trivial. 

The potions master was the most ridiculous Wizard I had ever come across in my entire life. 

I could not for the life of me comprehend how anyone could possibly take the Head of Slytherin seriously. He'd swept into the classroom- _literally_ swept, dark robes dragging behind him like a bridal train- his heeled boots clacking with his every stride. "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class.”

Even his deep droning tone was dramatic as he swished around on one heel to face us all, having left the door he'd slammed wide open. My hands twitched with the desire to shut the door, I hated open doors, they made me feel as if my skin was crawling. 

His dark beady eyes swept over all of his students, seemingly dismissing all of us at once. I huffed, affronted. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making.”

_Morgana save my soul, I'm going to pour a cauldron of bubbling boil-cure potion on this man's greasy hair by the time this class is over if he goes on like this._

His left eye seems to twitch, but he hardly pauses as he goes on.

"However, for those select few..." He seems to glance my cousin Draco's way. "...Who possess the predisposition…"

_Draco? Draco has the magical signature of a Horklump. If he was this classroom's greatest hope at success ,we're all doomed._

"...I can teach you how to bewitch the mind…"

_Morgana's blood, did he just brush his nipples? Why is he stroking his chest? For the love of magic, make it stop._

"...And ensnare the senses…"

_Is he talking about a rape potion? If we're being taught how to make rape potions I'm dropping out of Hogwarts._

"I can tell you how to bottle fame…"

_Good grief has this man ever heard of sunlight?_

"Brew glory…"

_Has his shower pipe been connected to the black lake by mistake? How else can anybody explain that hair?_

"...and even put a stopper in death.”

_He's glaring at me- is he glaring at me? Why would he need to glare at me? I haven't said anything._

As if he'd heard my exact thoughts in that moment, Professor Snape shifted his gaze to Potter, who sat on Granger's other side in the front row where I was sat between her and Daphne. Potter's quill- under inked judging by the scratching sound- continued moving across a piece of parchment.

_What in Merlin's Beard's he got to take notes for? The greased vampire hasn't said anything useful since he's walked into the classroom._

"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to **_not pay attention_**." Snape's words are enough paired with his heated glare at their table for Granger to nudge Potter in his side. The boy finally looks up, pausing mid way from dipping his quill into his pot of ink. I roll my eyes.

_Twit._

"Mister Potter." The Professor steps forward, pushing his robe apart once more to free his arms, leaning a palm against the column in front of Potter. “Our...new...celebrity."

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Unsurprisingly after having spent the entire day sharing classes with her, Granger's arm shot up like a rocket. I exchanged a glance with Daphne, the two of us incredibly amused. 

_The Draught of Living Death._

Potter shook his head, and Snape ignored Granger entirely, making me squint at him. "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a Bezoar?”

_The stomach of a goat._

Once more, Granger's arm shoots up, and I barely get my arm out around the over-eager witch's waist in time to steady her before she topples out of her seat.

"I don't know, sir." Potter admits in the dead silence of the room. I find myself pitying the boy, but I'm more concerned about the insane witch I had the misfortune of sitting next to, who seems ready to injure herself severely all in the name of answering these ridiculously simple questions.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape only glared further.

_None whatsoever, the same herb also goes by the name Aconite._

Granger only stretches up further, whispering a soft 'ooh!' as the answer comes to mind.

"I don't know, sir." Potter answers once more.

"Pity." Snape droled. "Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?”

"Oh honestly." I huffed, having had enough of the man who was making poor Potter nearly piss his pants. "Powdered root of Asphodel and an infusion of Wormwood create a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, something we won't be attempting until at least fifth year. A Bezoar is a stone-like mass found in the stomach of a goat, a cure to most poisons with the exception of Basilisk venom. Monkshood and Wolfsbane are two names for the same herb, which is also referred to as Aconite.”

"Now are you done terrorising a boy who grew up with no knowledge of magic even existing, or are you ready to actually teach us something, Professor?" I snapped once my rant was over.

Snape's great big nose seemed to twitch, his eyes blazing at me while the rest of the class stared openly at us both, Theo staring at me with pride while Daphne looked at me as if I'd grown three heads. "You will remain after class, Miss Black, for your insolence. If I hear another word from you, I'll deduct fifty points from Slytherin.”

I open my mouth to snarl back at him, but Daphne grabs my arm, horrified at the bluff of house point deduction and the very thought of getting into trouble.

"Well? What are you all waiting for? Miss Black isn't allowed to repeat herself, so write it all down before your dim-witted minds forget." Snape droned at everyone. In a mad scramble, everyone got their quills out.

I begrudgingly bite my tongue for the remainder of the class, sulking even as Daphne and I create an absolutely perfect Cure for Boils potion- not that Professor Snape commends us at all for their hard work. In fact, he somehow blamed Potter for Neville Longbottom's potion going wrong and spilling all over him, making the poor boy erupt in violent boils, rushed off to the hospital wing.

Theo and Daphne insist on waiting for me outside the classroom while I take my time packing up my things. Snape doesn't move from his desk until everyone has filed out, surprising me by casting an easy locking charm to shut the door while I remain in my seat. He rises out of his, walking over slowly, overly dramatic as ever.

"A witch with your unusual magical disposition should know better than to keep her thoughts so unguarded, Miss Black." His drawling words confirm Theo and I's suspicions, but even I know well enough to appear sheepish.

_Good grief, all the insults I've thought of over the span of the past two hours...Father would be proud._

"I'll admit, I haven't heard such colourful terminology since my days as a student." Snape answered my thoughts with a scrunch of his great big beaked nose. "It appears to be a Black hereditary trait.”

"I'm sorry if you found my thoughts distasteful professor, but I didn't exactly ask you to listen to them." I remind him curtly, slightly less embarrassed now.

"Indeed you did not." He agrees, surprising me as I blink. "Nevertheless, I find it imperative you learn to block your mind. Perhaps Occlumency will teach you to better control your magic to the extent it no longer suffocates everyone in the room.”

"I'm only eleven. Occlumency is something most Sixth Years don't even learn." I frown at him, ignoring the disdain with which he coloured every word.

"With the right training, I believe it is _possibly_ within your range of capability, _possibly_." Snape drawled, folding his arms. "I shall inform the Headmaster that you will begin training with me twice a week after your lessons.”

"There's something you're all not telling me, isn't there? This goes beyond my magic." I frown deeper at him. "You're all afraid of something- something you're preparing me for.”

"Clever girl." Snape sneered patronisingly, a single eyebrow raising up. He seemed to pause, watching me as I waited for him to explain, my expression not faltering. He relented. "It is the Headmaster's place to tell you, something he will not do until you are ready. Know this...your _little friend_ isn't who you think he is. Guard your dreams from him." 

My heart sank- I hadn't told anyone about him, not even Father. _Surely he couldn't mean Tom...could he?  
_


	5. The Bathroom Incident

I was six years old the first time I had the nightmare about the Inferi. It was always the same, I woke up on a rocky island in the middle of a great black lake, so vast I could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling, too, was out of sight. A misty greenish light illuminated the island, but only just; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The darkness that surrounded me was somehow denser than normal darkness, and the fear I felt was something one could only feel in the truest of nightmares.

Beneath the still waters, a thousands strong army of Inferi teemed like a swarm, ready to leap out of the water at any moment. I could not pretend that I was not terrified. Every dream worked differently. Once, I made the foolish mistake of trying to climb into the small aged boat on the banks of the island. They had surged out at once, like a wave crashing over the rocks of the island as I raced in vain up to the top. I woke up the moment the first one clutched me, but I could never forget the inhuman snarls of the darkest creatures ever known to walk the Earth. It had taken me a fair few dreams to learn that, upon disturbing the water in any sort of way, the army of Inferi would rise with every intent of death. My attention had turned instead to the strange locket atop the stone dais, right at the top of the steep island.

Tom had appeared the moment I first touched the locket in my dream. At first, I had thought it a charm, we looked so eerily similar I'd simply thought my dream had concocted a mirror image in male form. Only, he began to speak, and I realised at once that this was not a normal nightmare. He never said who he was, only that his name was Tom. His eyes were the same inkwell blue as my own, hair the same shade of midnight, the same silky waves albeit cut shorter than my own. His skin was alabaster, dressed in a grey tattered coat over a worn out lighter grey shirt. He wore no shoes. Tom was a sullen boy, but he was the only company I kept every night I dreamt of the island over and over again. I began to wonder if it were a real cave, and if he were really trapped there. The very possibility terrified me to the core as I thought of the dead beneath the water.

After some time, the Inferi dream began to become less frequent as others took its place, without Tom. The Dragonpox Lady was a particularly horrific one, as was the wizard with a bombarda hole right through his chest. Tom was never there in the new ones, he was only ever at the island. He could never leave the island.

I'd spent the entire week confused about Snape's warning, even more perplexed as to what Dumbledore had to do with it. I thought about writing to my father about it- but then I knew I'd get into trouble for forgoing my dreamless sleep potions. Two months passed in a strange haze. Daphne, Theo and I were thick as thieves, quickly surging up the ranks in Slytherin House as we kept earning house points for one reason or the other, earning the respect of the older students. Every Tuesday and Thursday after my lessons, I would venture down to the Potions classroom where Snape would teach me Occlumency lessons, after which I would head further down to the Slytherin Common Room, usually with a headache. Every night I would lie awake in bed distracted by the swirling questions about Tom, half of me wishing I could just dream about the island again to ask him myself.

It wasn't until Halloween that things took a dramatic turn. I always loved Halloween, my family still practiced the Old Customs of Samhain, and I knew Father would be missing me just as much as I missed him on our favourite holiday. Like every year, Slytherin House arranged for a traditional bonfire out by the Black Lake as the sun began to set. Multiple fires were arranged to be lit, so that all of the students that still practiced the Old Customs could lay down on the ground as near to the fire as possible so as not to be burned, and in such a position as to let the smoke roll over each of us. The rest of us would run through the smoke and jump over the ones that were laying down. When the bonfire burnt down, we would scatter the ashes, and take the dying flames back to our own extinguished fireplaces in each dorm, relighting the hearth ceremonially from the communal bonfires, as our druid ancestors did before us. My friends and I had been excited to partake in the old rituals on such a large scale before getting to feast on the famed Halloween Feast of Hogwarts that even our parents had raved on about.

Instead, Halloween had started off a horrible day. We'd been in our morning Charms class when Professor Snape had swept in, summoning Theo. At once I had a horrible feeling, especially when Theo never returned to class. Daphne and I were distracted throughout the day, worried about our friend. When he returns after lunch, he's an absolute wreck, falling apart in my arms in the common room as I frown, bewildered, rushing him to his dorm so he had privacy.

Edith Nott had always been an exceptionally kind witch, soft-spoken and soft-natured and remarkably beautiful. Theo looked more like his mother than he did his father, and seemed to get most of his personality from her as well- something everyone was grateful for. Lord Nott was not a pleasant man by any means, the very reason Father always let me have Theo over at our house whenever he liked even if it were in the middle of the night. Theo had her bronze curls, her face, her hazel eyes and cheeky grin.

I'd never even for a moment thought she would choose to end her life.

She had always been so seemingly happy whenever I met her. Mrs Nott was a bit ditzy, adding to her charm as she would accidentally serve her soup into her teacup instead of her bowl. She almost always had a bright smile on her face, so I'd never thought of her to be that unhappy. Neither did Theo, it would seem, as Professor Snape whisked him off to the Headmasters Office, where he was floo'd straight to St Mungo's as his mother lay in her deathbed after drinking a concoction of poisons that even the skilled healers of St Mungo's could not cure. He'd only had minutes with her before she passed beyond the veil.

Theo lay between my knees for most of the afternoon, curled up in on himself as he rocked with wretched sobs, both of his arms clutching the arm I kept around his collarbone while my other hand stroked his hair as I hushed him and spoke softly, Daphne watching over us both and casting hexes in the direction of anyone who dared to enter the dorm.

"Do you remember when were little?" I ask him gently, holding him together as he fell apart in my arms. I kept speaking, staring at nothing with such fixed focus I thought I might actually set the very air on fire. I furrow my eyebrows in concentration, fighting the tears pooling in my eyes that blurred my vision. "You used to run away from home at least once a month, you'd have everyone at their wit's end trying to find you. No one ever knew where to look." 

"You did." Theo's voice was barely a hoarse croak, shot to bits from his wretched screams and woeful cries. It's still the first time he's spoken since he'd come back. Daphne was at our side at once, a conjured goblet in hand as she gently held it to his trembling lips as if nursing him. I brushed the damp hair away from his sweaty forehead, smiling down at him as best as I could. "You always did."

"That's right." I nod at him as he stares up at me, still crying but silently now. "You'd go where you always did, into the clearing in the woods behind Nott Manor. Where the Valerian flowers bloomed, little puffs of white surrounding you as if you were up in the clouds instead of a usually muddy field."

Daphne sat down next to me and Theo, picking up his hand and tracing the lines along his palm as she too listened, resting her head on my shoulder. She'd never been very good with emotions and distress, and while the two of them bickered like cats and dogs more often than not, I knew my two best friends needed each other just as much as I needed them both. "A little after your Eighth birthday, you ran off into the woods again to your field after a fight with your father...but I'd left you your birthday present there, a tent. Father and Daphne helped, we filled it up with all your favourite books, your favourite candy, some nice warm clothes, a bed to sleep in, wards to keep anyone you didn't want out of it. Do you remember what I told you when I found you there?" 

Theo nodded, looking exhausted as I kept running my hands through his curls. "If you want to run, Theo, run, but I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth."

He snorts with a weak smile at my imitation of my higher voice from three years ago, making me smile back down at him. "I'd find you there, and I'll build you a castle, and we can stay there, just you, me and Daphne. And no one will find us there, and we'll be happy as can be. I'll keep you safe, I'll keep you warm. I'll take care of you. Til the end of our days." 

"Til the end of our days." Daphne vowed softly, lifting Theo's open palm to her lips to kiss it.

"Will you both stay with me?" Theo asked us, more vulnerable than I had ever seen him. I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces all over again. "I don't want to sleep alone."

"Tired?" Daphne's eyebrow barely lifts, and Theo frowns, but nods. "Come on, let's get you washed up. Selene, can you get your potion?" 

It wasn't long before Daphne and I had squeezed in on either side of Theo in his canopied bed, the curtains drawn shut as I heard his roommates shuffle in and out quietly, no doubt warned about what had transpired by one of the Slytherin Prefects. I let him hug me from behind like he always did at sleepovers while Daphne traced patterns on his pyjama-clad back as he rested exhausted and sound asleep with the aid of one of my dreamless sleep potions. Daphne cast a silencing charm over the bed, making me frown in confusion before the sweetest voice filled the air. 

"I know it hurts, it's hard to breathe sometimes. These nights are long, you've lost the will to fight." She sang softly, her singing as sweet as a lark. I smiled, finally succumbing to the tears I'd held back for so long. "Is anybody out there? Can you lead me to the light? Is anybody out there? Tell me it'll all be alright. You-ooh-ooh are not alone, I've been here the whole time singing you a song. I will carry you-ooh-oooh-ooh. I will carry you-oooh-ooh-ooh."

"I know you can't remember how to shine, your heart's a bird without the wings to fly." I was shaking with sobs as Daphne kept singing. "Is anybody out there? Can you take this weight of mine? Is anybody out there? Can you lead me to the light? You-ooh-ooh are not alone, I've been here the whole time singing you a song. I will carry you-ooh-ooh-ooh. I will carry you-ooh-ooh-ooh."

"You-ooh-ooh are not alone, I've been here the whole time." I could hear her break too. "You-ooh-ooh are not alone, I've been here the whole time singing you a song. I will carry you-oooh-ooh-ooh. I will carry you-ooh-ooh-ooh."

"I know it hurts, it's hard to breath sometimes." She finished, before sniffling loudly. 

I didn't want to leave Theo, but it had been hours, Daphne reassuringly taking over and lying in his arms, running her fingers through his hair as I assured her I'd be quick, having every intention of going to the kitchens to get some dinner for all three of us before returning to Theo as quickly as possible.

I stepped into the bathroom closest to the dungeons to straighten myself out, groaning when I saw the state I had gotten myself into. The dark circles beneath my eyes were clear as day, the tip of my nose pink, the tear tracks thick as fresh tears hung off my jaw. I wiped the evidence away before I could run into anybody. I froze just before I could turn the tap when I heard a wretched sob from behind me.

There was someone crying in the cubicle in the middle of the row behind me. I frowned, stepping towards the cubicle, hesitating as another loud sniffle echoed in the stone lavatory. On the one hand, a bathroom was a miserable place to be crying on your own- on the other, I really wasn't sure if I wanted to deal with someone else's problems. I could feel the familiar magical signature though, leaving me confused as I wondered who was behind the door and if I should even interfere. _You could walk out of here right now, she would never know- no one would. You're not under any obligation to help anybody._

"Go away." The moaning voice was familiar- _Granger_. I stiffened, before my gaze dropped from the pale green door to the gap beneath it, wide enough to spot my shoes. _Ah, bollocks._

"Whose eyebrows do I have to hex off?" I ask her smoothly, smiling sadly despite myself as I reached out to touch the cubicle door. There was a pause paired off with a hitching noise, making my smile grow as Granger no doubt it was me.

"No." She sniffled, making me sigh dramatically as I moved to lean on the door, staring at myself in the mirrors.

"Hmmm...perhaps a scalping hex then? Hair always grows back, it's hardly the worst I _could_ do." I offer to her, before freezing. "It wasn't a Slytherin, was it?”

"You're not allowed to hurt anyone, you'll get into trouble." Granger's tone was weak, she sounded about as tired as I felt.

"Losing one's eyebrows is not nearly as hurtful as I could be, sweetheart. I would _never_ get caught." I frowned deeper.

"Selene, Stop." I could hear that Granger was going to cry again. I sighed, ready to cast an alohamora on the door when the foulest stench I had ever smelled filled my nostrils. I looked up from beneath the curtain of my hair, eyes widening in fright at the thing that had just lumbered in through the bathroom door.

"Granger?" I breathed out, reaching as slowly as I could into my robe pocket.

"Yeah?" She mumbled out.

“Duck."

I barely had the chance to act- ducking myself as the monstrously ugly mountain troll, fully grown and filling up the doorway to the bathroom all the way up to the ridiculously high ceiling, lets out a mighty roar before it swings it's massive gnarled club. Granger screams enough to make my ears pop as the rubble falls over her as the hideous creature destroys the top half of the first few stalls.

"Stupefy!" I yell out at the troll, but it's hide is too thick for my spell to penetrate, rebounding with a flash of red and a pop. “Damn!"

"Hermione! Selene!" The two of us peer out from around the troll to find Potter and Weasley in the doorway behind the troll. We don't have the time- Granger scrambles under the busted stall and into the next as I try casting a more powerful stunner to no avail. The club swings again, barely missing Granger as she screams again, and I yank her out of the stall.

"Help! Help!" Granger yells as the boys start throwing debris at the troll.

"Hey, pea brain!" Weasley distracted the troll as Granger and I move to hide under the sinks, the frizzy haired girl yanking me out of the way just in time as the troll notices, smashing the sink we had just been under.

"Bombarda!" I shout out, but it does nothing. "Bloody troll hide!”

I was scrambling through the spells I knew, knowing full well that if I used dark magic to defeat the creature it would have me expelled- if I even survived. At the same time, Potter aimed his wand at the troll as it readied itself for another blow, grabbing onto it's large weapon as if to try to prevent it from lifting...a mistake as the troll lifted a shouting Boy-Who-Lived up into the air, Potter landing on it's shoulders like a toddler on his father. At once the troll was distracted, whipping it's head about as if trying to spot Potter, beginning to do so in such a frantic manner that the poor boy was holding on for dear life, his wand accidentally sticking up the troll's nose. 

"Ugh!" Weasley yelled as the troll began to try to sneeze the wand out in vain as I stared up at it bewildered. Potter yelled as the troll finally managed to yank him off of it by his foot, hanging him up in the air rather like a piñata ready to be clobbered as it took it's aim. 

"Do something!" Potter yelled at us all as the troll swung at him.

"What?" Weasley yelled as my eyes widened, finally thinking of the perfect enchantment.

Potter barely dodged another swing. "Anything!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!" 

"Melofors!" 

Both Weasley and I cast our charms at the same time, colliding with our targets rather spectacularly. Weasley managed to levitate poor Potter right out of the confused troll's grip, floating him back over to him just as a rather grotesquely large orange pumpkin popped into existence around the troll's head, effectively blinding the poor creature. It whipped about it's head, trying to see through the vegetable it was encased within. 

"Wicked." Weasley grinned lazily at the spell, just before the troll decided the best way to get rid of the pumpkin was to smash it- effectively knocking itself out as the pumpkin smashed into pieces that fell around him. It takes a great deal of time as the thing stumbles about while Potter and Weasley backs up through the debris, but at last, it lands backwards with a thud, knocked out cold in a great cloud of dust. 

"Are you alright?" I offer my arm out to help her up from under the sink.

"I'm fine...is it dead?" Granger's rather visibly shaken as she stands, half hiding behind me.

"I don't think so. Just knocked out." Potter nods at us from where he and Weasley were checking it out.

It's that exact moment that the professors arrive, McGonagall leading the charge. She looks terrified at the scene, rearing back and clutching at her heart. "Ah! Ohhh, oh this- oh my goodness! Explain yourselves! All of you!”

"Well, what it is..." Potter and Weasley began to explain.

"It's my fault, Professor McGonagall." Hermione cut in, moving out from behind me- making me frown bewildered, clutching the muggleborn witch's wrist.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall looked confounded. Snape's eyes shot to me, raising a single eyebrow from behind the Head of Gryffindor House.

"Miss Granger had a little... _womanly_ accident." I cut in before Granger could continue to no doubt get herself into trouble, schooling my features perfectly. "I stopped in the loo on my way to to get something to eat for Theo Nott- you know, after everything this morning.”

Understanding flickered through all of the Professors, followed by sympathy. I fought a smirk, forcing my eyebrows to furrow into the perfect mask of confusion. "I suspect Potter and Weasley ran here to warn Miss Granger, but by then it was too late- it was already here attacking us. I used the melofors jinx to blind it, and it knocked itself out with it's own club. If you'd like to check my wand, you'll find it's the last spell I used...but Professor, I don't understand. Why was there a fully grown mountain troll in Hogwarts? How did it get past the wards?”

"Oh! But that's the least of the, well, yes..." McGonagall began to splutter.

"Professor, I do believe house points are in order. After all, it's not every day a First Year manages to take on a fully grown mountain troll and lives on to tell the tale." Snape drawled, whipping his robe as I frowned, having only just seen a brief flash of blood and a torn pant leg. "After such, it would be wise to escort the children to the hospital wing and away from the beast lest it choose a most inopportune moment to wake up.”

"Right you are. Very well, ten points to Slytherin, Miss Black, for your quick thinking and your sheer dumb luck. As for you two, Mist Potter and Mister Weasley, five points...will be awarded to each of you for your loyalty to your friend." Professor McGonagall offered out, making the three Gryffindors exchange goofy grins. "Now, off to the hospital wing at once. I trust you all remember the way.”

"I'll have the house elves send dinner for Mister Nott." Snape offered to me.

"And Miss Greengrass and I." I add, and he raises an eyebrow but nods as I move past him.

"Bloody hell, that was brilliant!" Weasley shot at me the minute we were out of earshot. 

"Thanks." I say, distracted, frowning down at Granger. "Will you be alright?”

"I think- wait, why?" She frowned back at me, before realisation dawned on her. "You're not going to go to the hospital wing, are you?”

"I need to get back to Theo." 


	6. The Ruby Stone

Theo had been having a rough week. My best friend hadn’t been the same since Halloween, and thus Daphne and I had turned into parodies of overly concerned mother hens, absolutely smothering him with affection and nagging concern because we didn’t know how to handle grief. It was quite ironic in a bitter way really, Daphne had lost her mother to a blood malediction shortly after the birth of her younger sister Astoria when Daphne was only two years old. My own mother had passed away shortly after I was born, not that father _ever_ spoke about her. I couldn’t imagine losing my mother after eleven years by her side.

Theo’s Christmas had gone horribly. He hadn’t seen his father since the funeral and wake, which we’d all gotten special permission to attend, and Lord Nott was worse than I’d ever experienced. It got so bad that Daphne and I were genuinely worried he was going to break his façade at the annual Malfoy Winter Solstice Ball just to yell foul things at Theo in public. Even Father had noticed, rather subtly suggesting to Lord Nott that Theo might join us for the rest of the holidays as he planned a trip to the South of France for work, citing that the change of scenery might do him some good.

Rather unsurprisingly, the French Riviera did nothing for Theo’s suffering.

He was in better spirits when we got back to Hogwarts, but only for a day. Theo had been having a rough week. We’d only just gotten back when the mass whispers broke out about Theo’s father, who had made the Daily Prophet’s front page after a skirmish with some of the ministry officials sent to do a random dark artefacts raid at Nott Manor. Theo had seemingly finally had enough of Daphne and I constantly hovering over him, snapping at us to leave him alone before apologising profusely with a look of horror as we both forgave him at once. It was a group decision to give each other some space over the weekend, having more or less not left each other’s sides for months.

And so I found myself in the Hogwarts Greenhouses like I did every Saturday morning. Daphne had chosen to sleep in til noon, muttering something about ‘beauty sleep’ before rolling over away from me when I’d tried to wake her up. Theo and I had breakfast together before he headed off to the library. I’d been rather excited about the chance to volunteer my services to Professor Sprout once more. She was by far my favourite teacher at Hogwarts simply because she let me help with all the magical plants, rather endeared as she was by my confession of wanting to become a Herbologist when I grew up where most young witches and wizards chose more exciting professions.

Among the green and the growling, and under the tinted sunlight of Greenhouse Number One, I found my happy place. There wasn’t a witch or wizard in sight, which meant I finally got a break from all the magic buzzing about constantly smothering my own. The plants were mostly sweet creatures, responding to my cooing and gentle words quite keenly. Professor Sprout had come to trust me enough to live me a list of tasks to complete on my own while she tended to the more dangerous sentient plants in the other greenhouses. I didn’t mind the more menial tasks like gathering potions supplies for Professor Snape, there was something awfully soothing about tending to a greenhouse.

It was this perfect peace that was rather rudely interrupted by three panting sweaty Gryffindors.

Granger was the first to barge in through the glass greenhouse doors, her two friends Potter and Weasley chasing her in. Her cheeks were ruddied from running and she panted entirely out of breath while I raised an eyebrow at her, dragonhide-gloved hand paused in mid air from where I was about to clip off another sprig of stinging nettle.

“May I help you, Granger?” I ask her as she seems to be catching her breath.

“Yes.” She wheezes, before standing back upright from where she’d bent over, just in time for Potter and Weasley to reach her. “Your father’s the Head Curator of Magical Artefacts for the Ministry of Magic.”

This isn’t a question, so I only raise an eyebrow once more. “What do you know about Nicolas Flamel?”

“The alchemist?” I ask with a frown, returning to my cuttings as I focused on the plant before me, entirely missing the way her eyes flickered with recognition at the term. “Mister Flamel’s a French wizard and a famed alchemist, he successfully created the Elixir of Life, which grants him and his wife Perenelle Flamel eternal life. He’s well over six hundred years old I think, one of the oldest wizards in history. There’re streets named after him and his wife all over France.”

“I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with whatever Fluffy’s guarding?” Potter asked Granger as I frowned with curiosity and confusion. 

“But of course!” Granger exclaimed a little too loudly, and somewhere in the long greenhouse I heard the baby Devil’s Snare hiss. “I had you looking in the wrong section! How could I be so stupid? I checked the book out _weeks_ ago for a bit of light reading. Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the philosopher’s stone!”

“The what?” The two boys echoed.

“The Philosopher’s Stone is a legendary substance with immense power. It can turn any metal into gold, and it produces the Elixir of Life. It can make the drinker immortal.” I explained to the clueless boys.

“Immortal?” Weasley repeated in disbelief.

“It means you can’t die.” Hermione supplied helpfully.

“I know what it means!” Weasley cried defensively, only for me to shush him as the devil’s snare shrieked once more.

“ _That’s_ what Fluffy’s guarding on the Third Floor. That’s what’s under the trap door. The Philosopher’s Stone.” Granger insisted, though I was entirely clueless.

“I don’t know what you lot are on about , but I’m not going to ask because that means I can’t have plausible deniability when you inevitably get into trouble.” I tell them all with a serious expression. “I would, however, recommend that you at the very least _attempt_ to involve a Professor before pulling a full Gryffindor.”

“Thanks for your help Selene. Come on!” Hermione yanked the boys out of the greenhouse entirely distracted, making me frown as they vanished as abruptly as they had entered. I looked down at Tolstoy who stared back up at me from by my feet, as if the kitten was equally as confused as I was by the strange Gryffindors.

“They’re awfully strange those three, aren’t they?” I ask my pet, before frowning deeper at myself. “Merlin, now I’m talking to a cat.”

“What do you reckon they’re up to?” Daphne asks me at lunch as I explain the entire strange encounter to her and Theo.

“I’m not sure what ‘Fluffy’ is but I do think this explains the troll. If I were to hide a mystical stone of eternal youth in Hogwarts, I’d put something like a troll in to guard it.” Theo pointed out.

“Are you barking mad? Trolls are some of the daftest creatures on Earth, maybe only second to Parkinson.” Daphne huffed. “Why would anyone put a troll in to guard anything of value?”

“Why else would a troll be casually roaming the bloody castle?” Theo argued.

“It does make sense…maybe the troll is part of it. They said something called Fluffy was guarding it, I can’t imagine anyone naming a troll, and certainly not Fluffy. So Fluffy must be something else. Perhaps the troll is only a part of the stone’s defence system?” I consider aloud as I cut into my roast chicken.

“You don’t reckon they’re trying to steal it for themselves, do you?” Theo frowned at me.

“They’re Gryffindors.” Daphne snorts. “There’s no use trying to make any sense of them.”

“You don’t suppose I should tell Snape, do you?” I ask both of my friends with concern. “What if they get hurt?”

“Then they’ll get hurt, who bloody cares? At least it’ll stop Draco from going on and on about Potter, he can’t have much more to whinge about if Potter’s dead.” Daphne shrugged.

“ _Hurt,_ Daphne, _hurt_! I never said dead! Why would they die? We’re in a bloody school!” I exclaim in alarm.

“You’re the one who almost got clobbered to death by a troll! I sent you out to get some sandwiches, not a smashed skull!”


	7. The Boy Who Whined

Draco Malfoy was the son of Narcissa Black, my father’s cousin, and in this way we were cousins as well. It could have been distant enough that I’d never had to see his face, but unfortunately, father and Aunt Narcissa were among the last of the House of Black and this meant I’d had the deep misfortune of growing up with _Cousin Draco_.

But I’d be damned if I didn’t melt his smug face off.

The news broke out early in the morning, after the first of the Slytherins arrived at the Great Hall for what should have been a normal breakfast, only to find the Slytherin Hourglass in the house point tally remarkably less full than it had once been. _Fifty points,_ my cousin had lost our house fifty house points just for sneaking out of the common room at night to follow _bloody Potter._

The entirety of Slytherin House was positively livid. We were leading over the other houses by quite a wide margin, not least of all from all my hard work, and now my cousin had made our lead over Ravenclaw as scarce as a meager thirty points. Ravenclaw could earn as much within a single day if they chose to put the effort in- which they _always_ did. The older students were ready to hex Draco into the Hospital Wing, and I’d even caught a second year making a hair-raising potion in a corner of the common room.

I knew that Draco had suspected I’d done something by the way everyone steered clear of him and glared from afar, sulking, instead of outright murdering the foolish twit. By now he was more than aware of the resounding respect Daphne, Theo and I had carefully instilled in every single Slytherin through Daphne’s fear tactics and Theo’s manipulation. It all came to a head that afternoon, as Draco returned to the common room no doubt to get ready for dinner with his two goons trailing him.

I could see in his eyes that he suspected something was amiss. We’d _courteously_ asked that all Slytherins avoided the common room before dinner- which meant they were all hiding under notice-me-not charms courtesy of the Prefects in the corridors that networked from the dorms to the common room, listening in. The fires were crackling in the marble fireplaces, illuminating the black shiny surfaces of the roman columns and the glass windows of the Black Lake.

I was sitting on a couch facing the common room entrance, Tolstoy in my lap for dramatic effect as I stroked my purring familiar. Daphne sat poised on the back of the other end of the couch, half turned toward Draco and his minions while Theo walked over from where he’d been using sign-language to communicate with a mermaid. She too remained, peering in through the murky glass as if equally curious as to what was about to occur.

“You alright there, cousin?” Draco put on an air of arrogance despite the hesitance in his eyes. I squinted at him.

“Sit.”

My command leaves no room for argument, and he almost falters in his step, Crabbe and Goyle far more concerned looking than he was. Draco scoffed. “I’m going to get ready for dinner, aren’t you-“

“ _Now._ ” I cut him off. He gulps, walking over and obliging. I fought a snicker, but I could _feel_ Daphne’s icy glare aimed at the three half-wits and I knew I couldn’t break character. Doing my best to channel my inner Grandmother Walburga, I begin to speak as calmly and clearly as I could.

“Fifty house points.” I cut straight to the chase. “ _Fifty.”_

“It wasn’t my fault, Potter-“

“I’ve had quite enough of you and your obsession with Potter, Draco.” I cut him off yet again, glaring venomously. “Nothing, not a _single_ thing in this entire world can excuse your absolutely abhorrent behaviour. Do you understand what you have done, you fool? You’vemade an embarrassment of yourself. You’ve made an embarrassment of the name Malfoy. You’ve made an embarrassment of Slytherin House. And most unforgivably, you’ve made an embarrassment of _me.”_

“Your appalling _recklessness_ is something even the Slytherin Prefects have never seen in all their years at Hogwarts. You might as well be a _Gryffindor,_ the way you went off _galavanting_ after the lot of them. I don’t want to hear a single word out of you. I don’t want to see a single smug smirk or hear a single pathetic boast, not for the rest of the year, do you understand me?” I seethe as he grew paler and paler in complexion. “You’re grievously lucky that I _might_ be able to pull off catching up on the house points you lost us, or you’d be lying in St Mungo’s by now from the amount of hexes our Housemates wanted to throw at you. You’re not untouchable Draco, _never_ forget that.” 

And with that, I rose up out of my seat, Tolstoy cradled easily in one arm. Daphne and Theo moved to join me as we aimed to leave for dinner. I paused, looking over my shoulder. “And one more thing…”

“I wrote to your mother.”

“That was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed all year.” Theo grinned the minute we stepped out through the false stone wall in the dungeons, making me frown at him. “Cor blimey, Selene! You looked just like your Father that time he caught us after we dented all the coats of armour in the West Wing flying our brooms indoors…I’ve never seen you like that in my life.”

“I have.” Daphne shot me a little smile, reminding me of our first night at Hogwarts with Parkinson going barmy for no reason.

“You don’t think I was too harsh on him, do you?” I frown at them both. “I don’t know what came over me… one minute I was ready to break into laughter and the next I…I just saw red. I could feel my ears turn hot.”

“Temper, temper.” Theo teased me with a warm smile, and I was just grateful he was getting into better spirits after everything he’d been through.

“Who cares?” Daphne snorted, looping her arm through mine as Tolstoy hopped out of my arm to walk ahead of us with a loud _‘yowr!_ ’. “Personally, I hope Mrs Malfoy sends him a howler. Can you imagine his face?”

“Forget imagining it, didn’t you _see_ the look on his face?” Theo chuckled. “I thought Goyle might piss his pants any minute.”

“Everyone was listening, you know.” Daphne added smugly. “Now they know you’re not going to be soft, not even for your own cousin. No one’s safe.”

“Think it’ll help?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“It bloody well should after all the graft we’ve put in.” Theo grumbled. “What do you think they were up to, anyway? Skulking about after dark?”

“You don’t think they snuck out to steal the stone, do you?” I frowned at my friends, equally concerned as to what Draco had caught the the troublesome trio doing last night.

“Honestly you two, why are you fretting like a flock of mother hens about a bunch of Gryffindors?” Daphne huffed. “Besides, they didn’t look dead to me- and I seriously doubt they’d make it past a mountain troll and whatever Fluffy is unscathed.”

“I suppose Daphne’s right. I can’t imagine they have much of a reason for the stone anyway, I mean can you imagine being eleven forever? I shudder at the very thought.” I think aloud.

“Fluffy. I can’t get past that name, Fluffy.” Theo mused, gaze distant as we walked towards the Grand Hall. “What would you name Fluffy?”

“You.” Daphne and I echo at the same time, before grinning at one another.

“Oh clever, _really_ sodding clever.”


	8. The Boy Who Lived

Draco had returned from his detention with the Gryffindors late in the night rather visibly shaken. By the time morning broke, everyone in Slytherin had heard all about ‘the vampire in the woods’ that had been feeding on a unicorn carcass. Only Daphne, Theo and I exchanged frowns of confusion, knowing fully well exactly what unicorn blood could be used for and finding the coincidence too high with a powerful immortality stone hidden away within the castle walls.

“You don’t think…” Daphne began, but I cut her to it.

“He’s dead.” My tone is resolute, forcing myself to believe in the words as I followed her out of the Great Hall from breakfast.

“It _is_ Potter though.” Theo points out softly with a frown. “Father would rejoice, of course. Can’t imagine he wouldn’t be pleased if _he_ were somehow alive after all these years.”

“You think he’ll spare your father if he were alive? For abandoning him for ten years, leaving him to rot?” I snap, bristling as my friends frowned. “He’s _dead_. That’s the end of it.”

“Selene…” Theo sighed, opening his mouth to say something more when Daphne cut him off.

“Hey, isn’t that your father?” She was looked over my head, and I turned to find her entirely correct.

Father was strolling across a grassy courtyard with one hand tucked into his coat pocket, the other wielding his eagle-topped cane. Lord Altair Black had once been the most handsome man in Hogwarts- _at least, according to him-_ the prized heir of the House of Black and all its fortunes. He wore his golden hair short, combed over to one side in a gentlemanly fashion that entirely contrasted the scruffy golden beard that lined his sharp jaw. His eyes were crystal blue, often glinting with mischief, arrogant aristocratic features easily stretching out into that charming crooked grin of his as he redirected his route after spotting me. He wore a brownish olive knit coat speckled with white, a matching pair of pleated tailored pants beneath it with a silver-grey silk waistcoat lined with a row of buttons engraved with the Black Family Crest. His white shirt collar was sharp; a perfectly folded maroon ascot tie tucked into his waistcoat, pinned with a silver eagle’s head.

“There she is!” Father grinned roguishly, spreading his arms out for me. I was frowning deep with confusion, but I stepped forward from between my friends, settling into his arms as he chuckled, kissing my hair as he rubbed my back. “I know it’s only been months, little one, but it’s been dreadfully quiet in the castle without you there. I can’t ever imagine I’ll get used to it.”

“I missed you too, Papa.” I reassure him as I pull out of his embrace. “What’re you doing here?”

“Can’t an old fossil visit his daughter?” He challenged with amusement. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles again, shaking his head as he reached out to muss my hair. I scowled at once, reaching up to fix it. “I’ve got a meeting with your Headmaster… Ministry Business. Hello kids.”

“Sir.” Daphne nods while Theo smiles at my father, the two stepping closer.

“Has this got anything to do with the philosopher’s stone?” I ask, only for father’s grin to drop.

“I’m quite certain I don’t want to know how you’ve found out about that, do I?” Father asks me, and I blush, but nod. He nods too, sighing. “Well, I suppose while the cat’s out of the bag, yes, I am.”

“Sir, if I may?” Theo asked for permission to speak like he always did, father having grown used to it so much he’d stopped reassuring him that he didn’t need to. “Selene’s cousin Draco had detention last night in the Forbidden Forest with Harry Potter and his friends. They happened upon a unicorn carcass, a cloaked figure was feeding upon it. We’ve been quite concerned that whoever’s been drinking unicorn blood so close to the castle might be quite interested in a stone that gifts it’s user immortality.”

Father’s expression steeled. “Quite right, Theo. I must thank you for that most disconcerting piece of information, I’ll discuss it with the Headmaster.”

“In the meantime, I don’t want any of you worrying about the stone or anything other than your exams, alright? This is, after all, why Hogwarts has a Board of Governors. We’ll handle it.” Father reassured us all, and I felt the weight lift off my shoulders. “I really should get a move on, I’ve got another appointment in Essex in two hours. I’ll say goodbye for now, shall I?”

“How will you ever cope, Papa?” I tease him as he pulls me into another deeper hug with a dramatic groan as he swayed us together.

“I could never be without you, little one.” He played along. “I shall veritably waste away before summer break.”

“How tragic, I must endeavour to make a swift return then.” I teased as he let me go, making him laugh.

“Bye squirt.” He ruffled my hair one last time, making me scowl. “Behave. That goes for you two as well. And Theo, I’ll send you a howler if you don’t write to me more often.”

“Yes sir.” Theo flushed furiously as Father grinned at the boy, giving Daphne a wink before he strode off.“Your Father’s a legend.”

“You just love him because he taught you how to play Quidditch.” I roll my eyes at him.

“What do you suppose Dumbledore wants Lord Black for with the stone?” Daphne expressed her curiosity as we kept walking towards our next lesson.

“Probably something to do with protecting it. I’m a bit more relieved to know the Ministry’s involved, I can’t imagine Father will be too pleased to find out about the troll incident.” I admit.

“You didn’t tell him?” Daphne snapped. “Selene have you gone ‘round the bend? What do you suppose he’ll do when he finds out you didn’t tell him that you almost died in a bathroom?!”

“Oh calm down, I handled it fine, didn’t I? Besides, the Gryffindors were there to help.” I roll my eyes at her.

“I don’t think you should be keeping secrets from him, Selene.” Theo frowned. “He worries about you, you know. We all do.”

“I don’t want him making a scene.” I admit with a flush. “You know how he gets if he thinks I’m hurt…I don’t want to be like Draco and Uncle Lucius, everyone knows if you mess with Draco you’ll get into trouble with Lord Malfoy. I want to fight my own battles, not depend on Father to fight them for me.”

“He’ll find out.” Daphne sighed. “He always does. And then you’ll be in trouble.”

“Well then we have to make sure he doesn’t, hmmm?”

It was late in the afternoon when I arrived at my twice weekly Occlumency lesson with Snape, the two of us sitting facing one another with him at his desk marking assignments while I sat directly opposite.

“Professor-“

“You’re meant to be meditating, Miss Black.” He cut me off without even looking up from his desk. I scowled, closing my eyes obligingly as I focused on my breathing. “Clear your mind.”

“I can’t until you listen to me.”

I heard him huffing indignantly, followed by the swishing of robes. I grimace, peeking with one eye before I see him waiting patiently, arms folded and eyebrow raised. “Well?”

I open both my eyes, relaxing my posture. “Professor, I know about your… _involvement,_ in the war.”

He hardly flinched, eyebrow only rising higher. “I was wondering if you thought it possible for someone to survive the backfire of the Killing Curse.”

“Someone? Or… _someone?”_ He drawled. I shot him a look. He sighed. “Not that it’s _any_ of your business, Miss Black, but the Dark Lord was defeated on that Halloween Night.”

“You said defeated.” I frown, catching on at once. He stilled. “You didn’t say destroyed.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too clever for your own good?” He sneered, but I only grinned seeing this as a compliment. “You never thought he was dead, did you?”

“I want him to be.” I confess with a frown. “Theo’s father…I don’t think the war ever really ended for some of us.”

“The war ended, Miss Black, but some of us _lost_.”

We spend the following week engrossed in exams. It’s the evening after the last exam, History of Magic, which I thought I’d personally done rather splendidly in when all hell breaks loose. We don’t hear about it until the next morning, a Friday that Theo, Daphne and I had every plan of spending helping decorate the Slytherin Common Room for the End of Exams Party. It was all anyone could talk about- _especially Draco._

Potter and his friends had faced off Professor Quirrell in the third floor corridor and apparently saved the school.

No one knew the exact details. There were rumours that made a little more sense, like the one where Professor Quirrell was under the Imperius Curse by dark wizards unknown with the intent of stealing the Philosopher’s Stone for themselves. Then there were others- that _Quivering Quirrell_ was a vampire conspiring to turn his mortal lover into an immortal. I thought this one was ludicrous. Nevertheless, Potter found himself the star of the school and all anyone could talk about, even if the following day Gryffindor lost in Quidditch to Ravenclaw without him.

“Do you reckon you could ask Granger what Fluffy is?” Theo asked me as we sat at the End of Year Feast a day later.

“What?” I blink at him, confused.

“Well clearly she likes you. She always stares over at us, and you’re the first person she ran to about the stone. I reckon she’d answer if you asked nicely, and it’s been bugging me all year.” Theo explained himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous, twit. Selene shouldn’t be seen in public interacting with Granger.” Daphne rolled her eyes dismissively, bristling next to me. “Look at them. You’d think they defeated the Dark Lord.”

I froze.

_Surely…but it_ ** _is_ ** _Potter._

“Selene? Are you alright?” Daphne sounded concerned, but I was too busy scanning the Gryffindor table, eyes meeting at last, clashing against emerald green.

_Damn, Potter._


	9. Fluffy

_A Hundred and Seventy Points._

Daphne was ready to combust into flame, and I was quite convinced it was entirely within her magical capability, storming onto the Hogwarts Express _still_ fuming as Theo and I followed her onboard with an exchange of looks. We’d slaved away all year, done every extra little thing, put in every last ditch effort, _spent every hour after class in the bloody library-_ all to earn the House Cup fair and square at the end.Even after Draco’s interference, we’d managed to bring the lead between us and Ravenclaw all the way up to a hundred points apart.

“If I come across a single Gryffindor again, a _single one, I swear here and now I will make sure they never breathe again.”_ Daphne growled so loudly that I spotted a few Gryffindors at the end of the carriage exchange startled expressions before scurrying into the compartment next to them. “A hundred and seventy points. A hundred and seventy! What an absolutely abhorrent, vile, _sadistic_ display of corruption! It’s favouritism! It's partiality! It’s…it’s…it’s…”

“Daph, _breathe.”_ I roll my eyes at her blowing a gasket, Theo tugging her into an empty compartment as I follow suit, sliding the door shut behind me. “We have bigger things to be concerned about.”

“ _Bigger_? BIGGER? WE JUST LOST THE HOUSE CUP!” She shrieked in indignation. I frowned with concern as I finally noticed the state she was in- Daphne Greengrass _never_ had a strand of her perfect blonde hair out of place. It looked like she’d just gotten into a fight with a Flitterbloom, and the Flitterbloom had won.

“We’ll win it next year, Daph, I’m sure we’ll-“

“ _Never_ call me Daph.” Daphne glared so icily at Theo I thought he was going to get hit by a non-verbal _Glacius_ spell. Still, she seemed to settle, crossing her arms with a huff. I smiled, pulling my wand out and waving at her hair, settling it back into it’s normal charmed side-braid. Her eye twitched. “It wasn’t-“

“Unfortunately.” I give her a sad smile as her expression turned into one of abhorrent horror at the very thought that half of the school probably saw her looking like a mess. She leaped into motion at once, pulling a pocket mirror out of her satchel, inspecting herself with great speed as Theo and I shared grins. Trust Daphne to forget she was in a state of utter rage just to check herself in the mirror.

“What were you trying to tell us, Selene?” Theo prodded, making me start a little as I remembered what had been bothering me all morning. I glance out through the glass of our compartment door, before tugging down the blind, effectively enacting the Imperturbable Charm that made conversations muffled within compartments.

“Do you recall my lessons with Snape?” I ask them both, keeping my voice soft and gentle as we all leaned in closer, inherently paranoid about being overheard. “He confirmed our suspicions _he’s_ still out there, still alive somewhere, but only just. That Potter didn’t kill him that Halloween night.”

Theo paled whiter than a ghost, and I frowned at him with concern, squeezing his knee as his jaw clenched. “Father’s mark…it faded, but it never went away. Father was convinced this meant he was still alive- but he didn’t dare act on it. After all these years…he’ll kill him, won’t he? He’ll kill them all for not rushing to his side that night.”

“But don’t you see? That must have been him, drinking the unicorn blood. That must have been him after the stone. Who else would have need of it? Quirrell was probably just serving his master.” Daphne pointed out as the pieces clicked into motion.

“Quivering Quirinus Quirell? A Deatheater?” I snort. “The man can hardly get through a sentence, let alone serve the Dark Lord.”

“What other explanation do we have, Selene?” Daphne argued, fighting to keep her voice soft and gentle for Theo’s sake. “So then Potter must have…yes, it all makes sense. How else could they have earned a hundred and seventy points?”

“I think this is a bit beyond House Points, Daphne.” Theo shot her a scowl.

“So what now? Selene…Selene?”

I wasn’t listening, distracted by a familiar mane of golden brown hair I could see through the gap between the blind and the glass. I stood up, tugging the blind so it rolled up in a rush, sliding the door open without waiting for it with a screech of protest from the metal framing, popping my head out through the door.

“Hey, Granger!”

The shorter Gryffindor girl whirled around, Potter and Weasley behind her as the train jolted as it began to roll out of Hogsmeade. All four of us barely held on. Steadying myself before I stepped out, glancing up and down the otherwise empty corridor of the train carriage. “Had any luck with Nicolas Flamel?”

“Oh! Yes, thank you for that. I completely forgot!” Granger flushed, eyebrows rising as I walked a little closer.

“Potter. Weasley.” I nod at them with polite smiles. “Congratulations on the House Cup.”

“T-thanks.” Weasley was about as red as his own hair, making me raise an eyebrow coolly before I turned back to Granger.

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to answer if I asked you something…I’ve found myself most curious about it, you see, and it’s been quite vexing.” I force my voice to remain soft and sweet, schooling my expression into one of perfect confusion. “What’s Fluffy?”

“Oh!” She gave a start, making me actually confused. “That! Yes, well, you see…”

“It’s a three-headed dog, he belongs to Hagrid. Well, he might not be a he…I don’t know how three headed dogs work with genders, do all three heads count as the same do you reckon? Do you know anything about three-headed dogs, Black? Wait- no, that came out wrong, I don’t think you’d be running around with three headed dogs I just assumed-” Weasley rambled on, rather clearly nervous, only for Potter to cut him off by clutching his shoulder. It was only then that I turned my full focus on the Boy-Who-Lived, frowning when I noticed for the first time something _odd._

“Thanks. Have a good summer.” I dismiss distractedly, turning on my heel to return back to my compartment.

“A three-headed dog? A THREE-HEADED DOG?!”

Theo began to rant on about the wildly lax school policies around the safety of its students, but I was busy sorting through the thoughts whirling in my head.

_The troll in the bathroom, it didn’t have a strong magical signature, it was…_

_And the Great Hall. The overwhelming feeling…like I was being suffocated…it wasn’t just the students, it was Dumbledore and…_

_Every class I shared with the Gryffindors…every time I sat next to Granger, who sat next to…_

_In the Greenhouse…_

_…The lake with the Inferi._

“Selene?” Daphne jolted me out of my thoughts, making me blink up at her owlishly. She frowned, eyebrows furrowing together. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah.” I speak a little too airily, shaking out of it, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, sorry. Just a bit of a headache.”

“I was just saying how it might not have been You-Know-Who. It could’ve just been his followers, or other Dark wizards. I mean there’s still descendants of Grindelwald’s followers, you know, scattered all across Eastern Europe. We could never be sure.” Daphne explained herself.

“It’s _Potter.”_ Theo pointed out. “Who else could it be but _him?”_

“I’ll ask Father once we get home.” I reassure my friends, signalling rather well that we should stop talking about it.

_Your little friend isn’t who you think he is._


	10. The Dark Lord

Arcturus Black III died in the middle of a blizzard deep in the Winter of 1986, having outlived both his siblings, his children- and in the case of my Uncle Regulus, some of his grandchildren. I didn’t remember much of my Great-grandfather other than the year of 1986, when Father and I had moved in with him much to take care of him. He was as cold a man as the Winter that took him.

He did, however, leave us Grimmore Castle. Grimmore, with its slate blue shingles that glistened like scales, the roof line twisting and turning around the ever-higher towers like the body of a great serpent. Grimmore, with its infinite stone carvings and statues, framing every surface of every wall and column. Grimmore, with its tall corridors and larger than life rooms. Grimmore, which housed the largest private collection of magical literature in all of Britain, residing in a gorgeous partially glass-domed Grand Library.

It was the library that Father spent the most of his time, a sanctuary for him and him alone amongst the books and the glass cases full of artefacts. It was the library we dined in that night, beneath the conservatory-like glass dome of the Central Atrium, by the fireplace at a long oak work-table.

“Something bothering you, love?” Father hummed, still distracted, as I blinked out of my reverie. I hadn’t realised that I’d been staring at my mostly untouched plate, lost in thought as I was.

_Potter’s magical signature…if magic could have a taste, he tasted like Tom. Like he was mixed in with him, dipped in him, cloaked in him. But that doesn’t make any sense…how? Wasn’t Tom just a dream?_

I shook out of it, frowning at myself, knowing that if I had to explain to Father what was truly _bothering_ me, then I’d have to explain the Inferi dream- which meant I’d get into trouble for keeping it from him. _This would be so much easier if I could just dream of Tom again and confront him myself._

Instead I sighed, readying myself for asking what I promised Theo and Daphne I would. _The Dark Lord…Morgana I hope I’m wrong about Potter and him._ “Promise you won’t be cross with me, and that you’ll answer honestly?”

“Always, little one, always.” Father frowned, setting his notes down as his concern set multiple worry lines across his brow. I knew he could tell by my tone that something was wrong, and if Snape was right, _then it was._ “You know you can come to me about anything Selene.”

_Well, not everything, Father._

“Papa, I don’t want you to think you’re protecting me from the truth.” I preface, before biting the bullet. “Do _you_ believe the Dark Lord is dead?”

If a dragon broke in through the glass and set the entire library ablaze, I was convinced father wouldn’t have snapped out of the rigidity that had broke out over his entire frame. His eyes were unreadable, a mask falling upon his face, schooling his entire being before he even began to speak. I had a terrible, _terrible_ feeling. “Why?”

“Do you remember the Philosopher’s Stone, a few weeks ago?” I remind him, and he doesn’t flinch. “Well, Potter and his friends apparently faced off Professor Quirrell in the Third Floor Corridor, stopped him from stealing it, and supposedly saved the school. No one knows the exact details, and Professor Dumbledore’s kept it all very hush hush. Naturally, if there’s a secret in Hogwarts, it’s not long before everyone knows the vague details.”

“Except…well, Draco came in after his detention raving on about how he and Potter came across a hooded figure in the Forbidden Forest that was drinking Unicorn Blood. And a lot of students thought it was a vampire, but unicorn blood…it will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, despite the terrible price. A vampire would have no use for it, they’re already undead. And then the whole business with Professor Quirrell happened, and people were saying Professor Quirrell must have been acting under the influence of dark wizards unknown.”

“Except, we _know_ a particular Dark Wizard who’s quested time and time again for immortality, right? And it’s _Potter.”_ I point out to Father with a frown, continuing to rant all the thoughts that had been racing through my head. “Only, it doesn’t make sense… Professor Quirrell couldn’t have been a Deatheater. The details don’t add up, but who else would be desperate enough to drink Unicorn Blood? Who else would do so in such close proximity to Hogwarts Castle? Not unless they needed to get into the castle, to get something incredibly important trapped within- a stone that could return them to their full might, and turn them immortal. And then Potter and his friends were awarded a hundred and seventy points for the vaguest of reasons losing us the House Cup, Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have pulled off such a stunt unless they’d done something massive. And it _is Potter.”_

“Nonsense, Selene. If the Dark Lord got past the Hogwarts wards, Dumbledore would have sensed his magic at once.” Father cut me off.

“You said _got past-_ so he’s alive?” I felt my eyebrows rise far into my hairline as I droppedmy cutlery with a clatter. “So Snape was telling the truth! He _did_ survive!”

“Selene…” Father began with a sigh.

“How? Why?” I fire at him, feeling the chills break out, raising the hairs all over my body. “Why would no one try to kill him for good? Why wouldn’t Dumbledore search for him, destroy him while he’s weak? Why would no one do anything for ten bloody years? Why? What, was it to leave him toPotter to finish off? He’s just a boy!”

“And you’re just a girl.” Father snapped, and I froze at once. He hardly _ever_ used that tone with me, but there he was, as serious and stern and terrifying as anyone could ever be. “This isn’t what you should be worrying about, Selene, you should be worrying about Puddlemere’s chances in the Quidditch League, or when you’ll write to your friends. _Not_ the Dark Lord. This isn’t _your problem.”_

“Then whose is it?” I fire back, standing up out of my seat. “Potter’s?”

“Selene…” Father sighs, trying to settle me.

“He killed mother.” I snap at him. “He killed Uncle Regulus. He turned Aunt Bellatrix into..into _that._ Uncle Sirius. He’s destroyed our _entire_ family, and countless others. He’s the reason Theo’s father is that horrible _horrible_ human being, and the reason why I can’t talk to a bloody muggleborn in public for the fear his followers or the children of his followers will turn against us and hurt us. He’s the reason why everyone in Slytherin thinks I’m the next Bellatrix bloody Black. Forgive me if I’m a little _concerned_ that the murderous evil overlord I thought to be dust _six feet under_ is alive and plotting his dramatic return! And none of you are doing ANYTHING!”

I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel Father’s arms around me, holding me together just as I fall apart, getting to me right in time as every piece of glass in the vicinity shatters and the books tear themselves out of the shelves violently.

I’m exhausted when I wake up the next day at noon, feeling like I was a shell of myself. Still, the only thought that shot through my mind was simple- _how could I ever tell Theo?_

It was one thing to suspect the Dark Lord might have survived that night. We all thought of it, the children of families so directly involved in that side of the War. He was every Slytherin’s worst fear, the star figure in every nightmare, the answer to every horrible bedtime story. It was another thing entirely to _know_ he was still out there. I didn’t understand…I _couldn’t_ understand why no one was doing anything to prevent his _certain_ return. Did they honestly expect him to waste away on his own? He was too foul a creature to go away quietly.

_And now I went to school with The Boy Who Lived._

Theo. Softhearted, sweet-natured, cunning and clever Theo. When the Dark Lord would make his return, Theo’s Father would be one of the first to answer the call. Lord Nott would expect Theo to join him…join _them._ If Father didn’t become one of them our true beliefs would be found out- and we’d be struck down like the closeted blood traitors we were. And then there was me.

I wasn’t the first case of a magic-sensitive individual in the Black bloodline. Much like Dumbledore, and The Dark Lord himself, my Aunt Bellatrix Black had been born an exceptionally gifted Witch. Father liked to say that magic was a force of nature, and some of us were just more in touch with the Earth than others. He would say that I was born on a Friday the Thirteenth, and that the sky had been crimson red from an approaching lightning storm. That the rain had made it look like the heavens were bleeding. That all the omens had pointed to a mystic occurrence, the birth of a rare gifted child… _and that all of this was absolute hogwash._

Instead, whenever I asked about Bellatrix or Sirius, Father would always say the same warning- absolute power corrupts absolutely. That there was a difference between what you _could_ do and what you _should_ do, and that my relatives had crossed the line between the two. Dark Magic always came at a price, and they had lost their grips on sanity far enough to be willing to pay that price. I was a Black, and that meant I could choose to lose to the darkness within me or fight it. If the Dark Lord came back…if he made Father become a Deatheater…how long would it be before he’d ask me to join them? How long before I become _her? How long before he kills us all?_

Father finds me in the Greenhouse, like he always did whenever I got emotional enough to have an episode like last night in the library. I hadn’t dared enter, but I was certain he would’ve fixed the glass and the books by morning. Instead, I’d had breakfast in the kitchen with the house elves, and made my way down to my happy place, tending to the plants with the ghost of Hesper Black to keep my company as she sat on one of the rafter beams, swinging her striped stocking clad legs in the air.

“I thought you’d be at work.” I greet my father as he wanders in while I add the ground tea leaves at the base of all the plants that liked acidic soil.

“Switched my schedule around…wanted to make sure you were alright.” Father admits, picking a green tomato off one of the vines, biting into it as if it were an apple. I scrunched my nose up at him as he hid a grin behind the fruit in his hand.

“That’s vile.” I complain, and he laughs. Despite everything, I crack a weak smile. “Papa…how do we face _him?”_

“ _We_ don’t.” He tells me, keeping his voice gentle as he walked over to stand on the other side of the raised bed of shrivelfigs. “There’s a whole ministry and more dedicated to make sure he never returns to power, including Dumbledore. _However,_ if the worst should occur, then you and I are going to be safe, alright? We’re not going to be found.”

“And Theo.” I add onto him, and he frowns, but nods.

“And Daphne, should she desire it.” He reassures me. “Until then, little one, you need to be careful. People like your Uncle Lucius, people like the Burkes and the Carrows…Slytherin is a dangerous place. Stick close to your friends, protect one another, alright? And don’t get involved with the Boy Who Lived. If the past year is anything to go by, he does seem to have quite the proclivity for life-threatening situations.”

I felt relief flood my veins knowing Father was being careful, that he had a plan. “You alright, squirt? Last night…”

I felt my face drop. “Sorry. I…that hasn’t happened in a while,has it?”

“It’s alright little one.” Father comforted me with a sad smile. “Sometimes…sometimes we get a little unsteady, and that’s okay, so long as you remember how to stumble back onto your own two feet.“

I smiled at him. Someway, somehow, my Father always knew exactly what to say to make my world keep spinning. He raised an eyebrow at me, making me grin- and so he grins back, giving me a cheeky wink.

“Good. Now…off you trot. We’re going to go out to Diagon Alley for some Florean Fortescue’s.”

"Papa, I don't like-"

"It's to comfort _me_ , not you."


	11. The Castle In The Clouds

Theo arrived at Grimmore in the second week of the summer under the guise of joining my tutoring lessons with the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, an ancestor who had been rather unpopular during his time as Headmaster of Hogwarts. In truth, Theo and I spent most of the summer making a makeshift Quidditch field in the gardens, practicing to sign up for the multiple openings on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Daphne began her visits to Grimmore after her holiday in Italy.

“I still don’t understand why the two of you insist on doing this day in and day out.” She sulked from where she lay in the perfectly manicured grass, hair glinting in the sunlight as if it were made of real gold. I kept hovering where I was in front of the ‘goal post’, in this case the circling raised arms ofthe great big bear formed out of a hedge sculpture. All the hedge sculptures in the gardens were made to match the constellations the Blacks were named after, but we had to petrify the lot of them to manage to play the game. It was a blissfully hot day, the sun beating down on the gardens in a rare display. Unfortunately, with the sun and heat came the bugs- and Theo and I spent half of our Quidditch drills swatting away dragonflies and bees the size of birds.

“Our odds for the Quidditch Cup are a bit naff now that the Boy Wonder’s on the Gryffindor team, isn’t it?” Theo pointed out ashe kept trying to throw a quaffle into the hoop I was guarding, which I kept swatting away with the end of my broom, scowling when I didn’t fly in front of the hoop in time. “Besides, half the team’s gone and graduated. Flint asked Selene if she might be interested in joining up.”

“Pretty sure he just wants the Black coffers backing up his team, not my actual efforts.” I snort.

“Well? _Are_ the Black coffers getting involved?” Daphne asked me as I flew down to her along with Theo for a water break.

“‘Course.” I roll my eyes at her. “The new Nimbus is due, reckon I’ll ask Father if he’d be willing to sponsor the team after we try out.”

“It’ll give us a leg up over the tragic cleansweeps and comets the rest have got.” Theo snorted. “D’you reckon Potter’s as good as he is because of his Nimbus? Bit of an unfair advantage, if you ask me.”

“He’s the Boy Who Lived. He can’t be bad at anything he tries.” Daphne rolls her eyes. “The world would implode if he didn’t win everything.”

“Now, now, Daphne.” I chastise her mockingly. “There’s no need to be quite so _green_.”

She threw her book at me as I dodged it, Theo and I bursting into laughter.

“You’ve stopped taking your dreamless sleep potions again, haven’t you?” Daphne asks me hours later, after Theo and I have finally called it a day. I freeze. “I knew it! When you told us about what your father said about the Dark Lord, I _knew_ you’d stop taking it. Selene this is getting ridiculous, you were doing so well all school year when you kept taking your potions-“

“I took my potions so I didn’t blow up our dormitory.” I snap at her, before furrowing my eyebrows at doing so after I see the look of hurt on her face. I heave out a breath, exasperated with myself, running a hand through my hair. “Daph…you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just- what if it was a bad one? What if I screamed bloody murder, or set the bed on fire? We’ve worked too hard to earn our respect in our house to blow it all away with rumours of my vulnerabilities.”

“But now I-“ I cut myself off, frowning, hesitating. Theo and Daphne share a glance, concern lining their features. “There’s a dream- the _worst_ one. There’s…there’s a lake in a dark cavern, and there’s a rocky island in the middle of it. And I always wake up on the island. And in the lake, beneath the glassy surface…there’s…there’s _thousands_ of them. Inferi.”

They both shiver visibly at the mere mention of the foulest creatures in the known magical world.

“If you disturb the water in any way, they…they…” I can’t finish the sentence, unable to keep the memories at bay. “One night, I climbed to the top of the steep island, and…and there’s a stone dais there. A golden locket, shiny, with emeralds in the shape of an S set in an amber surface. I touched it- and a boy appeared. At first I thought I was dreaming of myself as a boy, we looked so alike. Maybe he was an ancestor of mine, a relative, I’m not sure. He said his name was Tom. We’d talk every night I dreamt of that dreadful place. After a few years, I stopped dreaming of it, I started dreaming of Mother instead.”

“Selene…it’s just a dream.” Theo tried to comfort me. “A horrible, horrible dream.”

“That’s what I thought.” I furrow my eyebrows, frustrated with the pieces that weren’t adding up. “But then, occlumency with Snape- he said…he said _your little friend isn’t who you think he is._ He must’ve seen Tom in my memories, I don’t know who else he could mean. And then on the train back home, when I stopped the Gryffindors to ask about Fluffy, Potter- he-“

“Selene?” Daphne squeezed my shoulder, knowing how to comfort me when I got like this, on the very edge of hysteria.

“Potter’s magic.” I swallow my emotions, steeling myself with resolution as I looked at both my friends. “He _felt_ like Tom.”

I didn’t think we’d end up spending the remainder of our Summer in the library, but here we were. Daphne was certain that my dreams were now a sign of dark magic, and she was adamant about finding out about it. Theo had tried to get me to tell Father about them, but then I would get into trouble for not taking my potions. They were both certain that Snape had noticed the presence in my mind and that this was why he was teaching me occlumency.

“I can’t find anything.” Theo huffed, putting more books back to where they belonged on the shelves. Daphne sat on the ground with her back against a shelf, a large ancient tome in her lap and a smaller book of translations in her hand that she kept glancing back and forth between. I was busy trying to draw the locket to the best of my memory on a piece of parchment.

“Well isn’t that a shiny little noose?”

All three of us snapped our gazes upward, finding Hesper Black’s ghost sitting cross legged atop the tall shelf, craning her neck down at my drawing, head cocked to a side with a sly grin on her translucent face. “Pretty, pretty…”

“Hesper, do you know what this is?” I ask her carefully, knowing the demented young witch could be particularly cruel if she wished.

“He lives in the castle, in two places at once, trapped here, trapped there… trapped trapped trapped.” Hesper cackled hauntingly. Theo shuddered. “Daddy dearest would be devastated if you dared enter his den, poppet.”

And with that, she floated off. “His den- his private study.”

“Daphne, no.” I put my foot down. There were a great many places in Grimmore Castle I was banned from entering without Father's express permission- and his study was one of them.

“Selene it makes sense! All his research on dark artefacts, he’s not going to leave that laying about in the library, is he? All of it must be hidden away in his private study.” Daphne was already getting up.

“Don’t you want to find out why you’ve been having these dreams, Selene?” Theo frowned at me, knowing exactly what to say to force my hand. “Don’t you want to stop having to take those potions?”

Father was going to kill us.

Father’s private study was in the East Wing of the castle, flanked by two long galleries of de-spelled artefacts. It was impossible to enter without alerting him, the doors sealed with a complicated array of curses and the room itself protected under a blood ward which prevented any from entering without someone of Father’s blood to accompany them. I had never been inside Father’s study without him.

Together we had demised that while the doors were cursed, theoretically, the windows were not. With Daphne refusing to so much as touch a broomstick, prefering her two feet to stay planted firmly on the ground, Theo and I were set to the task of breaking and entering. Daphne was to wait in the corridor outside the study as a lookout and distraction in case any of the ghosts or the house elves showed up.

“Shite, shite, shite, shite, shite…” Theo muttered under his breath as we both flew up to the largest of the three glass-stained windows that belonged to the Study. We were rather high up in the air, not that this was nearly as frightening as being wrong about the windows being cursed.

“Language, Theo.” I scold him with a dreary sigh, begrudgingly pulling out my wand. _Legally,_ we weren’t allowed to do magic outside of school until we came of age- but Grimmore was so heavily warded and so full of magic anyway that it would be hard for the trace to differentiate between myself and the magic of the house elves should they be able to find it- _I hoped._ “Alohomora.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Theo corrected himself as we both watched with panic, before the windows clicked open and swung out slowly. We both exhaled in relief, stiffened shoulders slumping. Hesitating again, I test the wards, flying close enough to stick my hand in past the window into the room. When it works, we both share a look, and fly in.

Feet landing on the great grey Persian carpet in the middle, I look around. The ceilings were high, bookshelves lining the walls. Two grand glass cases of artefacts stood guard between the three windows, behind Father’s massive and orderly desk. Two high-backed, winged armchairs faced the extinguished fireplace.

“Where should we start?” Theo looked a little more awestruck than I did, having never been in Father’s study before.

“You start there.” I point to one of the parchment scroll filled shelves. “We’re looking for archives of some sort, Father has catalogues of all the artefacts in the private collections in Grimmore, so he must have something of the sort for everything he’s studied.”

“This would be so much easier if we had a Ravenclaw friend.” Theo sulked as I set my broomstick against a shelf on the other side of the room, beginning my own search. “Honestly, the amount of time I’ve spent in libraries since we started school…”

“Quit grumbling and get to work, prat.” I huff at him. “This was your idea- Morgana’s blood, if I get caught because of you two.”

“You never get caught.” Theo scoffed from somewhere behind me as I began unrolling a scroll.

Theo and I spent hours trying to find anything, slowly growing increasingly frustrated and increasingly afraid that Father might return home from the Ministry early. Our snarky snipes turned into full blown arguing before long as my paranoia grew- at least, until around hour four, when Theo held onto an oak carving of an eagle’s head by the fire mantle to pull himself upright, a loud creaking noise erupting in the room as it begins to shake.

We both jump at once.

“What did you do you pillock?” I hiss at him.

“Nothing, I did nothing!” He defended, the two of us watching in horror as the fireplace moved mechanically apart, unfurling itself like the entrance to Diagon Alley, revealing a dark doorway and steps down below the ornate mantle. “A secret room! It’s a secret room!”

“Why are you so excited, nitwit, we don’t know what’s in there!” I snap at Theo’s eager glee. “What if there’s a dark creature down there?”

“It’s a _miracle_ you didn’t end up in Gryffindor.” Theo rolled his eyes sarcastically, whipping out his wand. “Lumos.”

“What’re you doing?” I hiss again, but it’s too late, Theo begins to drag me down the steps. “Theo! I will cast a severing hex on your arm if you don’t remove it from my person this instant, don’t think that I won’t! Get off me Nott!”

“Bloody Baron.” Theo breathed as I walked straight into him, making me scowl further as I rubbed my nose. I followedhis gaze, freezing in place.

The room was only illuminated by the dim white light of Theo’s wand, a large blackboard floating in the air at the center, covered in newspaper clippings, torn pages from books, drawings on parchment, and Father’s scrawled handwriting.

_All_ of it was of the necklace.

“Is that the…” Theo began, but I was already walking up to the floating board, pulling out my own drawing from my pocket, holding it up to a much better painting of the same locket- with a moving photograph of my dead Uncle Regulus pinned to it.


End file.
